


Simon's Escape

by cyren2132



Category: 7th Heaven
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyren2132/pseuds/cyren2132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon deals with the death of Paul Smith in an unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simon's Escape

**Author's Note:**

> This story, part of the 2003 TWoP 7th Heaven Lyric Wheel Challenge (Song: Over the Rainbow), is loosely based on the season 8 story arc of Simon accidentally hitting and killing a boy on a bike with his car. It's one of the few story arcs that the show almost did good on before making Simon's angstiest moment be "I can never ride a bike again!" and then completely bungling his "May as well have sex, since I'm already going to hell for killing a kid anyway," story line. And yes, if you watched the show, you know the twins really talked this way.

_He's dead. I can't believe I killed him. I only glanced at the radio for a second. Less maybe. Christine didn't like the station and I knew there were no stop signs going my way. Everything should have been clear._

_He ran his sign. I didn't have time to stop or swerve, he came out of nowhere! Now Paul Smith is dead, and it's my fault. They all said it wasn't. Paul ran a stop sign. He wasn't wearing a helmet. He was on drugs. Even his family doesn't blame me. Justin, his younger brother, walked up to me one day and said that I shouldn't feel guilty. "I loved my brother, and I really miss him," he said, "but he was doing some stupid shit. I don't blame you for his death. I blame him. It's not your fault."_

_It is my fault. I don't care how much they try to convince me that it wasn't. If I had been watching the road, Paul Smith would still be alive. I killed him, and I hate myself for it. I wish I could escape. Just stop being me, and be somebody else. Somebody who didn't have to feel this way._

Simon Camden slammed his locker shut, slung his bag over his shoulder, and started down the hallway. The students gave him a wide berth. No one spoke to him. He got a few sympathetic smiles and nods from people, but for the most part they left him alone. That was how he wanted it.

He reached the bike racks and began fiddling with the combination for the lock around his front tire. His family had been more than surprised when he sold his car, but after the accident Simon just couldn't bear to be in the driver's seat. He finally got the combination right and stood up just in time to grab a piece of paper as it flew in front of his face.

"The Kennedy High theater department needs your help! Without an enrollment of 15 students, the drama department is in danger of being shut down! Mr. McDonald is seeking 5 enthusiastic and dedicated students for his 2 pm drama class. Sign up today!!"

An idea started to form in Simon's head, and the thought consumed him for the whole ride home.

_It was hard convincing my parents to let me drop Small Bands. I had raised such stink about getting into it during my sophomore year, that they couldn't believe I wanted to drop it now. We fought for an hour or so, but in the end, they gave in. I didn't tell them my real reason for taking drama. They just think it's some new interest. If they had known the truth, they would have said no._

"Good afternoon everyone, and welcome to drama," he said with flourish as he strode into the room. "My name is Mr. McDonald, but that makes me feel like an old man, so feel free to call me Brad..." Simon leaned back in his chair and listened as Mr. McDonald continued his introduction. He was new to the school, and had quite a bit to tell. Simon's mind was beginning to wander when Mr. McDonald addressed him.

"Hey! Blonde boy in the back, would you come up here please?" Simon immediately put all four chair legs back on the floor, and bolted upright.

"Me sir?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes you," Mr. McDonald answered. "Come on up here." Simon slowly rose from his seat and trudged up to the front of the room. When Simon reached the head of the class, Mr. McDonald leaned against his desk. "What's your name?" he said.

"Simon Camden," Simon said nervously.

Mr. McDonald stared at him with a look of thoughtful scrutiny on his face. "No...no I don't think so," he finally said. "How about Rick Marshall?"

"What?" Simon asked. The class seemed just as confused as he was.

"Come on, Rick. Tell us about yourself..." McDonald said. A girl in the front row raised her hand, probably to inform him that most people just left Simon Camden alone. He motioned for her to put her hand down, and reached into a box next to his desk. "Here, maybe this will help," he said, tossing an old football to the confused teen.

Simon caught the ball and held it in his hands. Somehow, it felt rough, yet smooth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of grass and dirt permeated the ball. As he exhaled, Simon thought back to the last time he had heard people talk about the team. The Wildcats had won, 14-0 over their undefeated archrivals. It was an amazing victory.

He opened his eyes, and gave a slight smile. His posture changed a bit, and he absentmindedly started tossing the ball from hand to hand. Everything about Simon Camden was pushed to the back of his mind and replaced with the made-up life of Rick Marshall. "I'm Rick," he said with confidence. "I'm a Scorpio, captain of the football team, and I make a mean lasagna. My parents are never home, so if any of you ladies want to stop by for a dip in the hot tub, give me a call..."

He tossed the ball back to Mr. McDonald, and everything about Simon came back to the foreground. Rick Marshall was forgotten as Simon looked at the wide-eyed stares of everyone in the room. He slowly backed away from the class as a nervous laugh escaped his lips.

"Very good!" Mr. McDonald said as he clapped his hand on Simon's shoulder. "You see, children," he said to the class, "acting is more than just memorizing lines and perfecting inflection. Anyone can read lines off a page. Acting is being able to get inside someone's head. Think their thoughts. Live their lives. Acting is being able to create an entire character based on little more than a name..."

_It worked. When I'm acting, I can forget about all of it. I can forget about Paul and the accident and everything. I'm good at it too. At school, people don't even notice that it's not me. They just think I've "moved on" and "gotten over it." Sometimes, I can even pretend like it wasn't me. Like it never happened. It never lasts for long, though._

When I'm home, I can't pretend. When I want to be different, there's always someone else calling me back. The twins' endless questions. Relieved looks from everyone else that I don't seem to be taking everything quite as hard as before. It's those looks that do it. They look at me like that, and it all comes back. I remember why they're looking that way. I pretend for them too. Put on a little song and dance; make them believe I'm better, and run back to my room. I'll try to find another character then. Someone to get me through it, but it's too late. By then I'm Simon Camden again. I'm a killer.

I've got to get away.

"No...no...no," Simon continued to pull shirts out of his closet, hold them against his body, and summarily toss them aside.

"Got a hot date tonight?"

Simon spun around to see Lucy standing in the doorway-an amused look on her face. "What? Umm...ehhh...no..." Simon finally said.

Lucy's look of amusement turned to one of confusion. "Then what are you doing?" she asked. 'Christ, I should have just said yes,' Simon thought to himself. Quickly he shuffled through his list of stock players. Rick was too confident, Doug was too pushy; Seth-too nerdy. Andy. Andy would do.

Simon pulled Lucy into his room and shut the door. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked, enthusiasm practically oozing out his ears. He smiled, and bit his bottom lip, practically dancing back and forth while waiting for her reply.

"Yes," she said cautiously. "As long as it wouldn't hurt anybody..."

"Okay," Simon continued, bursting with an excitement he didn't really feel. "Okay, I've decided I want to be an actor," he said emphatically.

"An...an actor?" Lucy repeated, incredulously. "Simon, I don't know..."

"What's not to know," he said earnestly. "When you said you wanted to be a minister no one stopped you,"

"Yeah, but Simon that was different," she said.

"I'm good at it, Lucy. I've been the lead in both school plays, and I've felt more alive since I've started acting than I have in a long time..."

"That's true," Lucy agreed. "It seems to be helping you move past the accident..."

'Stay in character...stay in character...stay in character' "Yeah," Simon said, allowing his head to fall. "It's been helping me out with all of that." He quickly bit down on the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to stay in Andy's frame of mind.

"It's hard to make a living as an actor, Simon."

"I know, that's why I did a little research and found out about this theater group in LA," he said, handing her a pamphlet. "It hosts a bunch of workshops that help teach and improve skills in all areas of the craft, AND they do big mainstream productions. Look at all this stuff they've done!" he said, pointing out the list of plays the group had put on. "They're doing The Wizard of Oz next fall. And look at all the people who have been involved! Pretty famous names... That's the other thing, they have great contacts for people who want to work in movies and television."

Lucy looked everything over and finally turned back to Simon. "It all seems like a good idea," she began, "but it's so expensive. The application fee alone-"

"Luce," Simon interrupted, "You guys haven't been calling me The Bank of Simon for 8 years for no reason. I've got a lot saved."

"What about Mom and Dad? Have you asked them about this?"

"What's to ask?!" Simon argued. "By the time they've picked who they want I'll be 18 and I'll be out of school. Mom and Dad can't stop me." Simon saw Lucy's expression change to one that clearly said 'I'm going to give you a Matt-Style lecture now,' and he quickly backpedaled. "I mean, of course I'm going to bring it up with them before I would go," he said, "but I don't see any reason to rock the boat before I even know if this place would take me."

"All right," Lucy said with a sigh, "but you have to promise me that if you get in, you'll talk to Mom and Dad about all this. And you have to tell me what you were doing when I walked by..."

Simon grinned and leapt to his feet. "They need a headshot with the application," he said, "I'm trying to find something to wear..."

_I was Rick today. I walked across that stage with a confident grin, gave the head principal a manly handshake, and sauntered back to my seat. And at the end, I turned my tassel and gave a triumphant whoop as we all threw our caps into the air. And nobody had a clue. I think maybe Brad had his suspicions, but he didn't say anything. I'm sure he's probably sitting at his desk thinking I'll go away and get help from other people. You know, someone who'll help me deal in a way my family can't. He's just like all the rest, though. He doesn't realize that there isn't a way to deal with what I've done._

"Hey Simon, I need to talk to you," Kevin said, as he put the last dish into the dishwasher. Simon shrugged his shoulders and followed his brother- in-law to the garage apartment. "I wanted to say congratulations on graduating, again. You've really made a lot of progress," Kevin said.

Simon took a deep breath, preparing himself for another speech about how wonderfully he was doing. Or, pretending to do. "You know, Kev-"

"But you're about ready to throw your life away," Kevin finished, holding up a thick envelope with a broken seal. "This came for you yesterday."

Simon grabbed the letter from his hands, and pulled out the contents. "Dear Mr. Camden, congratulations on your acceptance...I got in!" he yelled. Then realization hit. "You opened my mail?" he asked.

"It was for your own protection-"

"You had no right to open this!" Simon said, too angry to even contemplate a character.

"Simon, I'm trying to look out for you. This acting business is a fine hobby, but it's not going to get you anywhere!" Kevin said.

"It's not going to get me anywhere," Simon repeated. "It's not--With a few lucky breaks in 10 years I could be living in a 20 million dollar house without ever having to work again!"

"A 20 million dollar house," Kevin mocked with a smirk on his face. "That's where you'll be in ten years-"

"THAT'S WHERE I'LL BE!!" Simon shouted as he moved in closer, his face just inches away from Kevin's. "That's where I'll be, but you'll still be here. Living above my parents' garage--working crappy hours for low pay until the day you die. So tell me again, who's throwing their life away?"

Simon pushed his way past a shocked Kevin and headed for the stairs. He was halfway down when he heard Kevin's voice. "I told Eric and Annie about this before I brought you up here. You better have something better to say for yourself than that."

Simon slowly walked back to the house, thinking about what had just happened and what WOULD happen as soon as got inside. He wasn't clinging to the silly notion that he'd be rich and famous in a decade. He didn't think he would, and to be honest, he didn't want to be. He had just said that to get Kevin off his back.

What Simon really wanted was to get away from this life. He wanted to go away and work--spend 24 hours a day getting into a character with nobody there to yank him back out into the life that he desperately wanted to leave. That would definitely not go over well with the Camdens.

He pushed the back door open and headed for the living room. For some reason, meetings, no matter how personal, were always in the living room. Never Eric's study or a bedroom; always the living room. When Simon reached his destination, he thanked his stars that, at least for now, it was just him and his parents.

"Simon," Eric said, rising to his feet, "Kevin showed us your letter-"

"Why didn't you tell us what you were doing?!" Annie said accusingly.

"I figured you wouldn't let me do it."

Eric walked to his son, and put his hand on Simon's shoulder. "Did you think that if it was something we wouldn't agree with, maybe it wasn't the best idea?" This conversation seemed vaguely familiar. Simon turned to look at his father, and realized that Eric was just echoing the words he had spoken to Mary several years ago when she'd been removed from a co-ed sleepover by Matt. Matt had filmed the conversation for a class, but nobody noticed that Simon and Ruthie had snuck down to listen as well.

Simon remembered hearing the question, and hoping Mary would answer a certain way. She didn't though. He remembered how he had felt at that moment, when Mary caved to the pressures of her parents. He had promised that he would never let that happen to him, but it did. He drew on the memory of the young, pre-teen rebelliousness and mixed it with the maturity he had gained throughout the years.

He took a deep breath, and embraced the familiar feeling of Simon Camden being pushed to the background and someone new taking his place.

The whole process took maybe 2 seconds, but apparently that was too long for Annie. "Well Simon? Did you?" she said with her hands on her hips.

"No." he said calmly.

"WHAT?" Annie said loudly and harshly, gripping her husband's arm.

"No, I didn't." he repeated. "I don't believe that you guys know everything there is to know about growing up or having a life, and I refuse to accept your final words as the end all be all way that my life will be."

"Look Simon," Annie said, advancing towards him, "This is not the time for petty teen rebelliousness, this is your future we're talking about, and I'm not going to let you jeopardize that by allowing you to go gallivanting across the state like it's some sort of rite of passage..."

"That's not what this is about!" he said

"Well then what is it Simon?" Eric asked. "Why, then?"

"Oh, why can't I have a normal family," Simon muttered to the heavens. "Look," he said turning to address his parents once again, "You've raised four kids before me, none of whom have stuck with something for more than a year, I don't expect you to understand-"

"Oh we understand perfectly, Simon," Annie interrupted. "You're not thinking clearly." A slight anger began to chip away at the cool confident facade Simon had put up. "You could end up like Mary..."

"And what is wrong with Mary?" Simon asked, slowly enunciating each word, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "Is the problem that she's far away, or is it just that she's happy?" he said, trying to mask anger with sarcasm.

"Los Angeles is a dangerous place, Simon," Annie said darkly. "If you go there, you could end up living on the streets, doing god-knows-what just to pay for whatever addiction that place has put on you, and I won't have my son living like that!"

"Is that all you think of me?" Simon said angrily, before Eric could give his two cents on the issue. "Do you really think that when I'm not directly underneath your moral thumb I'm going to just throw away whatever scrap of good upbringing you've managed to give me and become some sort of...homeless...drugged up...prostitute?" Simon ignored the shocked looks on his parents' faces, continued. "Is that all the faith you have in me? Because if it is, I'm ashamed...but not of me. I'm ashamed of you."

The living room was filled with a shocked silence. The stairs creaked, and Simon could tell that Ruthie had snuck down at some point. He endured the moment of silence for a minute, and when no one spoke, Simon turned to go back to his room.

"Simon!" Annie called after him.

"What?" he said wearily, turning to face her. In an instant, she crossed the room and thrust a booklet and a stack of papers into his hands.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but rest assured I will find out. In the meantime, you're going to take these, you're going to go up to your room, and you're going to fill out your Crawford application. Then, you're going to look through this book, and you're going to pick your classes for the fall semester. Simon, you are not leaving this house until you graduate college. Paul Smith's parents didn't make sure he did the right thing, and now he's dead. That's not going to happen to you."

Simon looked at his mother. She was angry and adamant. He looked to his father and only saw silent agreement. He could feel hot, angry tears begin to fill his eyes. Before he, or anyone else, could say anything, he turned and raced to his room.

_I can't do this anymore! I can't stay here. I've got to get out; it's the only way I'll ever feel normal. Crawford doesn't even HAVE a drama department!! I hate this. I hate them. I'll die if stay here. I have to go. I have to go now. I can't stay here and live like this. They won't let me forget._

"Eric, do you think I was too hard on him?" Annie asked, wringing her hands as she paced the living room. "He looked so angry!"

"An angry child is better than a dead one," Eric said, once again repeating the words he had used with regard to his eldest daughter. He crossed the room and pulled Annie into a warm hug, secretly relishing the fact that she actually needed him.

"Mommeeeee," the twins said, entering from the kitchen. "We're still hungryyyy. Is there going to be dessert tonight?"

Annie wiped the tears from her eyes, and turned to look at her young sons, a smile plastered on her face. "Of course there is," she said brightly, kneeling down to their level and giving each a hug. "In fact, why don't you help me make something really good!"

"Yay!!!" the twins shouted with glee. Annie stood, took each of her sweet little boys by the hand, and headed to her sanctuary, the kitchen.

Dessert was served and eaten in relative silence. Lucy, Kevin and Ruthie knew what had happened between Simon and their parents, and the twins knew enough to know that something was wrong. Of course, they never talked much any way. Afterwards, Eric and Annie stood alone in the kitchen, cleaning up.

"Eric, are you sure we're doing the right thing?" Annie asked, as she absent-mindedly dried and put away dishes.

"No. No, not really," Eric admitted. "But I DO know that we can't go back and change our decision now. What kind of an example would that set for Ruthie and the boys? They'd second-guess every decision we ever made." Eric wiped water from his hands, and turned to face his wife. "He'll do fine at Crawford."

"You're right," Annie said after putting away the last dish. "And after all, there's a drama club at CCC that he can be in. We should try and talk to him again, though. He's had time to calm down, and he's probably hungry."

The Camden's fixed Simon a bowl with a brownie, ice cream, and all his favorite toppings and headed towards his room. They gently knocked on his door, and when they received no answer, opened it and walked in. The room was dark, and Simon was nowhere to be seen. Curtains billowed gently in the cool night's breeze, and on Simon's bed lay a small scrap of paper. Annie dropped the sundae on the floor, paying no heed to the stain it was leaving, and rushed to the note.

_"Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby..."_


End file.
